


à la mode

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band), 룸메이트 | Roommate (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Kiss, Idols, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thought rises from somewhere in Chanyeol's sleep-addled brain. He wasn't there for Gayeon's party yesterday, but he can do this much, he can kiss her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	à la mode

**Author's Note:**

> Set in May 2014 before TLP, back when Chanyeol was still living in the Roommate house. Written sometime last summer, never got around to posting it anywhere.

Much to his disappointment, Chanyeol doesn't actually get to see Gayeon on her coming-of-age day. He doesn't even realize it's a Monday, let alone that particular Monday, until Dongwook texts him to remind him about it and then Seho texts him with a picture of a wedge of cake that looks so good Chanyeol nearly tries to lick his screen. He's so fucking hungry; this is unfair, he thinks, fantasizing about eating the entire thing himself. Maybe even the candles, he's that hungry. 

He taps out a quick congratulations to her during a water break and sends it off before he's got to get back to work. He's lost track of what day it is. He only knows he's been in the practice room so long he keeps seeing that stupid blue-sky background every time he closes his eyes. When they're finally given the go-ahead to go home and sleep for a couple hours, he sleepwalks through the front door of SM and nearly gets into the van to go back to the dorms with the others before he remembers Oh, right, I don't sleep there anymore. Baekhyun's so tired he shoves Chanyeol into the other van without once making a joke. Chanyeol pulls his seatbelt on and falls asleep almost immediately.

When Chanyeol finally gets back to the Roommate house, it's completely silent and all the lights are off. Chanyeol checks the time on his phone while he fishes his key out of the front pocket of his jeans. Not even six in the morning yet, and a manager's going to be back to pick him up at nine. Usually someone's up waiting for him when he gets back from his schedules—Dongwook, usually, intent on playing his little reporter game, but he's gone filming Hotel King all week. Seho's nowhere to be seen, either, nor Kangjoon or Minwoo. He kicks off his shoes in the front hall and trails up the stairs, hand braced on the banister to stop from falling back down. He doesn't even make it to his bedroom. Instead, he flops face-down on the upstairs couch, cellphone still clutched in his hand, and promptly passes the fuck out.

 

When he opens his eyes the sun is streaming through the huge picture windows in the sitting area. The house is awake with the bustling noises of early morning. Someone's showering, and down the hallway, someone else—probably Nana—is blowdrying their hair. He can smell something cooking downstairs, too, the sound of drawers opening and slamming as someone, Sungwoo probably, looks for a utensil somebody hasn't washed or returned to its proper place. It occurs to him that even though he's gone half the time, he's become so used to living in this house that he's familiar with the routine. 

Slowly he becomes more aware that there's a weight on the back of his legs. Someone's sitting on him. He manages to roll onto an elbow enough to catch a glimpse of who it is: Gayeon, headphones on, hands tucked into the pocket of her windbreaker. She takes them off and smiles at him when she sees he's awake.

"I heard you come in at six o'clock," she says, face scrunching. It's cute. "You got in so late. When I heard you come in, I thought it was time to wake up."

"I'm sorry I missed your party," he croaks, scrubbing at his face with both palms. He feels like death. Probably looks like it, too. "Rehearsal went really long—"

"I know. Bom says you're going to be working a lot this week to fix the concert preparations," she says, and hops off, extends her hand to help pull him up into a seated position. "I'm sorry. You really should go sleep in your bed, though. People will be walking through here and disturbing you."

"I wish I could, but I can't." He yawns. Through the gummy shit collecting in his eyelashes he catches a glimpse of the time on his phone, blurry and unmercifully late. He's got maybe half an hour before the manager's going to be here. "I have to go back."

"You're kidding! You were just there." She pulls a face. "I don't think I could ever be an idol. When do you sleep?"

"Never," Chanyeol admits, and although it's not entirely true, it certainly feels like that this week. He tries to keep the self-pity out of his voice and mostly succeeds. It's not even like this is just normal concert preparations, either, this is eleventh-hour last minute changes and bullshit brought on by—well. No time to dwell, not this week.

Sungwoo calls up the stairs for Gayeon, then, and Chanyeol waves her off so he can go and take a quick shower. He wakes up a little bit under the hot water and tries to rub the stiffness out of his muscles best he can with one hand running shampoo through his hair.

Breakfast is mostly over by the time he gets downstairs, but Sungwoo forcibly hands him an apple and tousles Chanyeol's hair as he passes. "Don't forget to eat something," Sungwoo warns. "And stay hydrated. Drink lots of water."

Chanyeol crams his feet into his sneakers, eyes closed, trying to catch a few seconds of sleep before he's sucked back into the routine of concert prep.

"Hey. Wake up."

It's Gayeon again. She elbows past him playfully to get to her running sneakers. Her long hair's pulled back now on the top of her head in a neat ponytail. He waits for her, watching her methodically pull the laces up and double-knot them tightly so they won't come undone during her morning jog.

"You go running every morning?" he asks, holding the door open for her. She scoots past him, nodding at him a few times in silent thanks.

"Yeah. It's not so bad. I usually go back to bed right after."

"Lucky," he says, unable to keep the envy out of his voice. He thinks about his bed, the stacks of pillows, the cool weight of the comforter, the soft way the mattress cradles his body and just wants, so badly, to crawl back inside on his hands and knees. 

He glances down at her. She looks as tired as he feels—circles under her eyes, blinking slowly—but she's out here too, anyway, because she's got to be. 

"So," he says. "Who gave you your gifts, then? I saw the cake. It looked good."

She lifts her arms above her head in a deep stretch. Bends to the side, hands linked. First to the right, then the left. "It was really good cake. Minwoo brought the flowers. Sora gave me a kiss. Just on the cheek, though," she clarifies, laughing self-consciously.

Chanyeol thinks back to his own coming-of-age day—he'd been dating someone then, so of course he'd endured the kisses from his parents and then gone out with his friends for the real ones. Gayeon, though. These days, she's at the gym or she's here. She mentioned an old boyfriend, but he knows it's been a while, at least a year, since she had time for anything but training.

The thought rises from somewhere in his sleep-addled brain. He wasn't there yesterday, but he can do this much. There's a blind spot with the cameras out here, it's a chance to just do it and not worry about seeing it on the television. He drops his bag to his feet and turns to her, crowding her into the blind spot, one hand on her shoulder, the other braced against the column of her neck. She tenses, hand on his wrist, eyes curious. Given how bone-tired he is right now, she could probably flip him with very little effort, if she was feeling really threatened. She doesn't—just watches him, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. 

On the other side of the wall, a car pulls up to the gate, tires spraying gravel. His ride's here. She opens her mouth to ask him what he's doing but the question gets lost somewhere in her throat. His phone starts vibrating in his jacket pocket but he's too busy watching her eyelids flutter closed as he leans in and drops a kiss squarely on her mouth.

Somewhere, a car door opens and slams. He jerks back, her breath still warm on his lips, and reluctantly steps back into his own space. His hand slips down her neck to hold onto her shoulders. She looks a little dazed, eyes unfocused, blinking rapidly as he steps away and his shadow moves with him, stretching past her. 

"Uh," she says, her voice very soft. Her cheeks are kind of pink and from the way her lips keep twitching, she looks like she's fighting back a smile. "Thank you."

He sees the way the early morning light catches her face and nearly steps in to do it again, really kiss her this time, but then his manager leans on the horn. "Shit," he says. "I'm sorry. I—congratulations, Gayeon. Have a nice run."

"Yeah," she says, and he wants to turn back to look at her wonderstruck expression but his phone's vibrating again, and the honking horn sounds even more agitated, and he's got another week of this before he can breathe, so he runs.

 

At the end of June, Sungwoo goes to France for a week with his girlfriend. Chanyeol's in and out of the house the entire week leading up to it, and comes home from Hong Kong disoriented and exhausted to an impromptu photo shoot with Seho and Sora in the living room before he trails up to his bedroom and strips down to his underwear to sleep.

But he can't—he keeps rolling over, still fucked up from traveling and weird airport food and a string of concerts, expecting Sungwoo to be across the room from him. He's spent years living surrounded by people now. He thought sleeping alone would be fucking amazing, no more listening to people sing or snore or yell at video games, just… silence.

Silence is awful. 

Sometime after midnight he pulls on a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and trails out into the sitting area. The house lights are off, but the room's still glowing blue with the flashing television screen. Gayeon looks up guiltily, spoon of ice cream in her mouth. She looks like she's ready for bed too—loose sweatpants, a tank top, hair in a messy topknot. 

"Did I wake you up?" she asks, voice muffled around the spoon. "I was trying really hard to be quiet." 

"You didn't." He shakes his head. "I couldn't sleep." He turns his attention to what she's watching. Some late night re-run of an old gangster movie, edited heavily and censored for television. "What are you watching?"

"Don't even know, really." She shrugs and moves aside to leave room for him on the couch. "Just turned it on."

"You couldn't sleep either?" He pokes at the ice cream carton. "This isn't part of a training diet."

"Sure it is." She grins and shovels another spoonful into her mouth. "They make me run so much that it doesn't matter anyway," she says, lips milky white. He nearly wipes it off with his thumb, but something in his chest seizes up and his brain goes foggy again. He freezes, still staring at her mouth.

"What is it?" she asks. Her gaze lingers on his mouth, then away. He swallows heavily. They haven't really had a chance to sit down and talk about the kiss—not that he was really sure what to say to her about it other than it was nice and he wouldn't mind doing it again.

He almost, _almost_ forgets himself and kisses her right there on the couch. With the way she's looking between his face and the large mirror on the wall behind the television, she seems to be thinking the same thing. And then he remembers he's in his underwear—and they are being recorded—and sits back against the arm of the couch, trying to look casual.

"I—uh—if you want to watch the movie in my room, I've got it on my laptop," he says. 

"Yeah," she agrees eagerly. "Okay."

She brings the ice cream with her. Chanyeol's working hard to stay quiet, smothering his laughter with his palm because there she is, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, still eating. 

"What?" she asks indignantly. "It's good." 

He tosses any available articles of clothing over the cameras and disconnects the one mounted in the corner. She watches him carefully.

"You want some?"

He turns. She has her arm extended out, offering him a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

"I can't," he says. "Diet."

"Cheat. Just this once. I won't tell."

A drip slowly works its way down the bowl of the spoon. He ducks to her level and accepts the spoon in his mouth before any ice cream gets on the carpet, eyes trained on her face the whole time, watching her smile blossom. She holds onto the spoon for a moment and then releases it to him, face burning.

"Good?"

"Yeah," he says, holding up the clean spoon. "Thank you."

She barely has time to put the lid back on the ice cream and set it out of the way on the floor before he has her face in his hands, kissing her, ice cream still cold on his tongue. She kisses back hesitantly for a moment, her mouth wooden, and then suddenly she's yanking him around by the neck, flipping him onto his back. He lands with a bounce, eyes wide, a slow grin creeping into his face as she makes her way into his lap.

"I'm sorry," she says, rocking back on her heels. She looks stricken, suddenly, as though she was worried she'd actually hurt him. "Just a habit, I guess."

"Don't apologize. That's… a really great habit," Chanyeol admits, ears flushed, and tugs her down into his arms. Gayeon is stronger than his previous girlfriends by quite a bit and he finds he's actually really into it, especially when he tries to roll over on top of her and she strong-arms him back into the mattress, grinning smugly into the kisses she keeps offering.

She doesn't always insist on winning, though. He kisses up the side of her face, and then her neck, lips soft and slack, and she curls over onto her side. He follows the line of her body with an open hand, settles on her thigh and pulls it up and over his hip. He's suddenly well-aware that he hadn't bothered to put on sweatpants before he went out onto the landing, and now that he's well on his way to fully-hard, his boxers aren't doing a good job of containing him.

Gayeon tucks her leg further behind him and pulls their bodies flush, the crotch of her own sweatpants stretched tautly over his increasingly noticeable bulge. She rolls her hips into him, first experimentally, then again, with more confidence. He groans quietly into her mouth.

"You keep doing that and I'm going to come," he mutters, hyper-conscious of Nana and Soohyun sleeping just across the hallway. Gayeon nods, her chest heaving against his as she tries to catch her breath.

"I know."

"Fuck," Chanyeol huffs, now fully hard, erection pushing at the slit in his boxers, threatening to break free. The way Gayeon's hips keep nudging up into his leaves him panting into her neck, every one of her thrusts enough to keep him achingly hard but not nearly enough friction to actually get him off. She keeps looking down at him and laughing, raking her fingers through his hair.

"You're being kind of loud," she says, teasing, when he makes eye contact with her and it ignites the competitive streak in him. He pushes her all the way down on the bed, fingers slipping past the waistband of her sweatpants. She cants her hips up enough for him to tug them down to her ankles, then waits for her to kick them off and lie back.

She's very, very wet—already dripping on his comforter when he slips a finger inside of her and then strokes it up to her clit. Her back arches and she starts making quiet _ah-ah-ah_ noises into the back of her forearm. He was going to do just do it like this, with his fingers, but then he's thinking about her thighs around his face and making it a reality.

"Ah, _Chanyeol_ ," she moans in that husky voice of hers the first time he laps at her cunt, significantly louder than he had been, and hearing his name all breathless like that just makes him feel shivery all over. She covers her mouth, alternately laughing and whimpering a little as he grins up at her, eyebrows wiggling. 

"You're being kind of loud," he teases.

"Shut up," she says, thighs twitching. He feels the force of her muscles against his cheeks and has to pause for a moment to work his hand underneath himself and squeeze, just to relieve the pressure a little bit. He gets her off like that, fucking up into his own fist, tonguing at her pussy with slow, teasing motions until she gets frustrated enough to grab him by the ears and grind down into his face. She comes with a long, drawn-out sigh, soaking his chin and the bed sheets below as her hips lurch, riding his mouth through her orgasm. 

Chanyeol has the presence of mind to sit up and grab his shirt moments before he comes, fabric wrapped around his dick to catch everything. The groan that comes wrenching out of him is probably an inappropriate volume for this hour, but he's too caught up in the moment to care much. Gayeon's laughing about it, anyway. When he finishes he looks down at her, still flat on her back, legs spread apart at the knees. Her face is red and sweaty but she's got this stupid grin on her face, as big as Chanyeol's ever seen, and Chanyeol thinks she's never looked more beautiful.

"Your face," she says, gesturing as she tries to catch her breath. He knows. It's a mess. He can feel the saliva starting to dry on his chin and at the corners of his mouth. He mops at it the best he can with a clean corner of the shirt and then tosses it towards the hamper. It lands on the edge, and then falls to the floor. He retrieves her pants from the floor and sets them awkwardly on the edge of the bed. She pulls them on, both legs at once, then crawls over him to retrieve the carton of ice cream.

"Really?" he asks, wrinkling his nose. It has to be melted by now. More soup than ice cream. She laughs brightly, now brave enough to lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose, then his mouth.

"It's really good ice cream." She pulls off the lid and looks at him owlishly, spoon already jammed between her teeth. "Now, you said something about a movie?"


End file.
